When Home Isn't There Anymore
by Andrew Fisher15
Summary: Sara visits Starling and feels the sting of what's gone between her and Oliver. Picks up in Season 5 and changes the storyline to include our favorite Canary.
1. Despair

Timeline—Early Season 5 of Arrow. Sara returns to Starling City and ponders why some things have changed…

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" _We're both ghosts. We died, on that island._ "  
" _No we didn't. We both lived. And… I get that you have been in pain so long that it_ _probably just feels normal now, but you can let it go, and come home!"_

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The noise of the diner had died down a bit since they first got there, and Thea was outside getting in her car. The diner was still pretty nice though. It was like something out of a 90's movie, but with warm furnishings and soft lighting and someone who wasn't afraid to keep the thermostat at 72 degrees. Now it was just her and Oliver, and it felt surprisingly awkward as she took bite of a french frie. It felt a little like college all over.

She glanced over at Oliver again. He had been glad to see her. Somewhat. When she had come back to Starling City right after the earthquake, he had looked at her like she was some divine being, like it wasn't possible to pour out enough love on her. Now he was still friendly… but that was it. Thea had still been so glad to see her, though Sara could tell something was off with her. Something was hurt.

"You really think these new recruits are a good choice?" Sara asked again. She was a little worried. And it was something to talk about. The girl, Evelyn? She had some talent, but lacked the training, and Sara doubted she was good enough with a bow to survive long against armed opponents. The guy with the weird facial hair, whatever his name was, just seemed like an angry, incompetent thug, not a team member. If he was going to be unreliable at least he could be a good shot. Supposedly he was ex military, but Sara doubted he could even range qualify to be a security guard. The black guy being a fighter was a waste. Apparently he was an excellent tech guy, but a few weeks of training had turned excellent tech skills into a lousy brawler. Teams were not about dream jobs—they were about helping where your talent was best put to use.

"I'm making due with what I've got." Oliver said, rolling his shoulders a bit. He pulled them back and Sara thought she could hear small cracking sounds. "Believe me when I say a new team was not my favorite option. But is that what's on your mind?"

"It's just… different." Sara said, a little uneasy, a little surprised he could still read her so well. Oliver raised his eyebrows questioningly. "This. Us. Being around you. It's not like it was before."

"How was it before?" Oliver said. Sara gave a weak half smile.

"You always looked at me like you never wanted to let me out of your sight again." She admitted.

"Well things are different." Oliver said offhandedly, shrugging. "Things change. That's just life. We just have to focus on the future." He stood, put some cash on the table. The tab, and a generous tip for the teenager who had waited on them.

"Thank you Mayor Queen." Sara teased lightly, standing, getting her jacket. She tilted her head to one side. "Why has it changed? Am I so different now?" She said the last part as a joke, but then something twitched on Oliver's face. She felt like she had been stabbed. "Really?" He hesitated, and she could see him consider lying. For a few moments neither spoke, and the diner seemed to have fallen silent, at least to Sara.

"You were different when you came back after the quake, Sara." Oliver said quietly. "You've changed a lot." His words shouldn't have mattered, but the pain said otherwise. She looked towards the windows, but then forced herself to look back and meet his eyes.

"How? How am I so different now?" She asked, trying to sound normal, uncaring, trying to resist the urge to hold him. His mouth opened slightly and he half shook his head, but then he spoke a moment later.

"When you came back before… you were grieving sometimes, and you were a killer other times…" He was searching for the words. "But then sometimes, you were the same Sara I loved. Caring and tender and funny and sweet and loving. I thought God had answered my prayers, decided we could have a second chance at life."

"You really thought all that?" Sara asked, tears in her eyes. Oliver nodded. Sara almost began to ask the next question _What changed? What's wrong?_ Before she realized she didn't need to. What had made her… _her_ … she had started abandoning ever since she left Starling City and said goodbye. She couldn't blame that Brit, Rip. She had always thought of Laurel as a rougher version of herself… then when she left Starling and Laurel and Oliver behind, she had acted like she wanted to outdo Oliver. That burning rage she had felt since the Pit had revived her had influenced her all the time. Picking barfights just for the fun, trying to seduce women like it was some sort of victory against the man who had killed her, flirting with Snart like it was revenge against Oliver for not making her stay in Starling…

"What if I got better?" She asked, hope flaring in her, lifting the weight off her heart. "What if I could be that Sara again? What if I got better, and I was always there for you? Could… could we…"

"I don't know what the future holds." Oliver said quietly. "But if that Sara came back… I'd want to face it with her at my side." To her surprise, he leaned forward, a hand on the side of her head, and kissed her forehead. She looked up. She saw tenderness, but little hope on his face. She hugged him tightly.

"I'll see you around, Oliver." She managed. He smiled softly and she turned, walked away. She could see it on his face. He hoped, but didn't think it would happen—that she could change, that they could have a future. She glanced back, and saw Oliver looking at her through the windows. She took a breath, calmed her emotions. She could get better. She could free herself of the rage, prove that little bit of hope right.

She had to.

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" _If I told you I've been cleaning my soul,  
And if I promised you I'll regain control  
Will you open your door and let me in?  
Take me for who I am and not for who I've been!"_

 _-_ Sorry, by Daughtry.

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Please leave a review if you enjoyed it!


	2. Remembrance

Thank you for the positive reviews! Another short chapter. Written in a very different style than how I usually write… let me know what you think.

* * *

" _I can't undo the things that led us to this place,  
But I know there's something more to us than our mistakes!"-_

 _Believe_

It wasn't an impressive house. A typical three bedroom two bathroom. The front yard had too many trees in it to make a clean setting, and the house wasn't quite built to take advantage of being on the hillside. Sara parked her car on the curb next to the driveway, glancing at the for sale sign in the front. Despite it being close to dark, she saw no lights on in the house, no cars in the driveway. The street was quiet and empty as she got out, walked to the front, up the three steps, onto the porch. The chairs she had sat in so many times, texting or eating a snack, weren't there anymore. She peeked through the front windows. The current owners had arranged the living room a bit differently, different furniture, a tv she thought was too big for the room. She pictured where their couch had been years earlier. Friday nights, the popcorn bowl had gone on a coffee table that was long gone. Mom and dad had always been together on the couch, and she was on the floor next to the couch with a big cushion and a blanket. How was it she had always been looking forward to things getting better, when it had been so close to perfect? College classes and dates and family nights and no worries.

She stalked around to the back of the house, to the set of windows next to the kitchen, then hopped over onto the back porch. Remembered posing for a picture she wanted to put on facebook, so proud of those shiny gold aviator sunglasses she had just gotten… Laurel laughing a bit but still taking the best picture possible. It had gotten a lot of likes. Now it felt strange to be back there, everything so similar but looking different. Like she had misremembered a dream, or she was in one. Had it been a lifetime ago, or yesterday that she was raking leaves in this yard? She looked a little closer at the windows… along the kitchen, then the dining room… and one was unlocked. She glanced around, knowing full well how stupid an idea it was, then slid it open and climbed in, pausing to remove her shoes and carefully pick them up, not wanting to get and dirt smears on the carpet. Mom had been so happy when she finally had it cleaned.

Sara walked silently into the kitchen. So many fights had happened there. So many good times. Dad cooking and so proud of his meals. Gleeful when he finally found a recipe to make good homemade eggnog for cheap. She paused, trying to remember what it had been. Pudding mix… milk… she couldn't remember the other parts. There was a different kitchen table than she remembered, but it was in about the same place. So many serious discussions. So many happy meals and holidays. She looked around, the warm wood colors still greeting her even in the dying light. She padded up the familiar steps, feeling the plush carpet against her feet, her hand finding the same old place on the railing. How had it been such a short time ago she was focused on fashion and daisy dukes and whether the family was going to their favorite tavern this weekend?

She glanced into her parent's old room, seeing not the new decorations but her mom's favorite nightstand with the mirror and three pieces of marble. The huge wardrobe they had got at auction, only for her, laurel, and dad to barely get it in the house? The high bed where the kitten, muffin, would leap up and beg for attention.

She glanced into Laurel's old room, imaging her favorite posters back on the wall, the dirty laundry heaped by the hamper, the small jewelry collection proudly displayed on a shelf. How many times they had fought and locked themselves in their rooms. How many times they had made up. The sharp pang of betrayal the last time she had seen it, knowing she was probably sacrificing the relationship to be with Oliver. Sara paused, stepped over to her old bedroom, cracked the door open. Pictured college student Sara in the room. How had she always been so focused on the future, not seeing what was there? Sara took a heavier breath, felt her eyes water a little. Family had mattered a lot to her once. She had wanted to have her own, one day. Go home to a man who loved her, someone she could count on. Be one of those couples that would do anything for each other. Maybe kids even, eventually. And now… now what was she? Had she become that cold and whittled away… like some feral cat that had forgotten life in a home?

She glanced at her watch, realized how much time she had been wasting. She forced herself to pad silently down the stairs. When had she lost this future? When had she stopped being the sort of woman who earned a happy life? That future home with a man she loved, it had always been there growing up, and she knew she would have it, as if it had been real and just waiting for her. She raised the window up enough for her to slip through, put her shoes on, and stepped down to the outside world again, feeling sadness crash into her as surely as a blow. She stretched up the close the window behind her, taking a last look. She headed back to her car, somehow feeling isolated in the dark, alone. She paused by her charger, looking around the neighborhood, the familiar sights, feeling a cool breeze sweeping through the trees. Sara reached into her pocket, took out her phone, and clicked on a name, feeling the weight lift off her chest as the phone dialed.

"Hey." She said. "I'm fine, Ollie. I called to ask, could I see you? Tonight?"

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Leave a review and comment if you'd like another chapter!


	3. Healing

" _Impulsive, enraptured!  
_ _This yearning's captured me  
_ _I'm determined, I'm not pretending  
_ _You are my destiny._ "—

Core of My Addiction, Skillet.

* * *

The rain had started light, but picked up, coming down straight and windless. Sara watched the sheets of water pour over Starling City, over the lights and cars and few people on the streets. She imagined it washing away some of the filth and corruption.

"I was a little surprised to get your call." Oliver remarked. She started a little, and Oliver pulled out the other seat at the table and sat. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay." She said. She had thought about a million things to say on the ride over, what she wanted, what was on her mind. Now that she was here, talking to Oliver again, it vanished like raindrops, the despair and fear and regret falling away with downpour. "Just, drove around a bit. Visited my old neighborhood."

"Oh." Oliver said quietly. He seemed to understand. "A lot on your mind?"

"Yeah." Sara gave a little bit shrug, smiled. "I appreciate you coming to see me."

"How could I say no." Oliver said, not asking. There was warmth in his voice. "Beats my usual day, you know."

"I figured I'll stick around a while, help you with that." Sara said lightly. "You seem to be fighting an uphill battle here."

"Well, Church is dead. Which solves some of my problems." Oliver said. "Didn't stop the shooting at City Hall, though."

"I saw that." Sara said quietly. "Your guilt drove you after that."

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked. Sara turned a little as a cheery brunette college girl walked up.

"Hi, I'm Ana, and I'll be your server tonight." The girl's excitement bubbled through and Sara smiled a little despite herself. "What can I get you Mr. Queen?"

"I will go with… the trout, with a side of mashed potatoes and a water to drink." Oliver said. "And Sara here will have..?"

"The grilled chicken salad, and sweet tea." Sara said. She "So what do you think? Will he be a one termer or be around a while longer?"

"Oh, definitely like four terms." Ana grinned. "You two will be on a lot of magazine covers, I bet." She left, and they were silent for a moment.

"What did you mean about my guilt driving me?" Oliver asked, a little lighter than he had the first time.

"I mean, you went on the gun control issue there." Sara said. "You were hit when you were weak, you couldn't save those people, and you felt guilty."

"I feel like if we can do something to save lives… it's worth the work." Oliver said quietly. Sara let out a breath, sat a little farther back in her seat.

"Mmkay." She said. Oliver gave her a look. "What?"

"You say that when you have a lot on your mind, but you don't want to say it." Oliver said gently.

"At the core, gun control is about fear." Sara said. "People give in to it."

"Not without reason." Oliver said lightly.

"Oliver, Tobias Church didn't follow gun laws when he kidnapped you. Illegal firearms. Prometheus used a bow and shuriken to slaughter the police force guarding Church. The man who attacked your office had an M4 assault rifle which would have gotten him 10 years in prison for possession alone." Sara said. "Oliver, I hate to say it, but if that man had used two pump action shotguns loaded with buckshot, the body county would have been higher. Less casualties, but they would all have gone to the morgue, not the hospital."

"So what do you suggest?" Oliver said. "I let it go?"

"An evil man slaughtered people to make a point." Sara said. "What did you do when Prometheus did that? What did you do when Darke did the same thing? You stood strong and fought back. You weren't hoping to pass a bill outlawing Darhk and his Ghosts." He shook his head, an ironic, tiny smile on his face as he pictured trying that.

"You have a point." Oliver said. "But it could help fight crime…"

"Oliver… if this city is so corrupt that everyone will kill each other if they just get the weapons to do so… we should leave now and let it burn." Sara said. "You can't have a society based on people who are only peaceful because they lack the ability to do harm."

"So did you come back to tell me about policy?" Oliver asked, shifting the topic.

"I came back because I want to help you end things." Sara said, looking him in the eyes. "I want what we were supposed to have before someone sabotaged the yacht. I want us to be us again." He was silent, his gaze shifting to the streets below them, at the lights and rain and people.

"You think we can still be those people?" He finally asked, looking back at her.

"Yes." She said firmly.

"You say that so confidently." He mused. "I worry about it." He looked at her, waiting for a reply. She just gave him a soft look " _go on."_

"I see how this has worn on us all." He said slowly, looking for the right words. "I see it in Thea. Like it's sanding away the edges of her. I see the places where she might have turned off this highway, been a happy woman. It grieves me. And then I'm afraid to look at myself the same way because I don't want to see what has passed me by." Sara reach across the table, took his hands in hers.

"What's done is done, Ollie." She said softly. "But we can make it better. All of us. You, me, Thea… We can get off this highway. Let go of the anger and despair and guilt we carry. We can come clean and start over. It's not too late... we have the rest of our lives."

* * *

The rain was still pouring down when they made it back to his apartment, shrinking the world down to a few rooms and two people, tomorrow no longer something they needed to worry about. The door closed behind them and all pretenses were gone, as they finally kissed. She pushed his suit jacket off and started yanking his tie loose so she could unbutton the collar, feeling his hands lifting her shirt up over her head, feeling almost reluctant to break the kiss long enough to take it off. They stumbled towards his room, trying to kick off their shoes as they went, Ollie reaching behind him and awkwardly grabbing the door handle, pushing it open. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and tugged off the undershirt about the same time he managed the bra clasp, and they embraced tightly for another kiss, the heat of each other's skin driving them on. He pushed her back on the bed and she laughed as he followed. Somehow the ache and despair from earlier was gone, and she felt like life must have been perfect if it lead here. She reached an arm around his back and pulled him down for another kiss, her other hand tugging his belt off. His hands found hers, and their fingers intertwined as he kissed his way up from her navel to her neck, his mouth next to her ear.

"I love you Sara." He breathed, his arms going around her back, holding her tightly.

"Love you back, Ollie." She whispered. He shifted, looked her in the eyes.

"Is this going to end, and I'll have to say goodbye again?" He asked, a mix of tenderness and hope and fear in his voice. She blinked a few times, feeling something welling in her eyes, pulled him closer.

"Where you go, I go." She whispered. "No matter what happens, Ollie. From now on it's you and me." In the dim light, she saw something leave his face, and somehow it felt like they were back on the Gambit.

Their lips met again, and everything was all right.


	4. Change

_Change_

Sara's eyes opened blearily, taking in the surroundings, feeling the warm body against her, the sunlight streaming in through the gap left in the curtains, the softness of the sheets and the quilt. She glanced at the alarm clock Oliver kept at the bedside. _8:26 am._

It was always too easy to be in a rush. To be wanting to go somewhere, get something done, Sara mused. How many times had she not simply stopped and treasured the moments that she was given? The times when life was so perfect? She felt a hand in her hair, and smiled almost on instinct. Oliver must of have seen it, because she could feel a small laugh in his chest.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked, twining his fingers in hers.

"Just a minute." He said, kissing her neck. "Thank God I have today off."

"I really don't know how you work both jobs." Sara teased, shifting so she could face him, her hair partially falling around her face. "Nights are draining."

"Big breakfasts, always." Oliver said in mock seriousness. "So you have plans for today?"

"Oh, absolutely." Sara said, grinning. "This place beats the hell out of my hotel room." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, got up. "I'll make us some breakfast! Do you have stuff for omelets?" Oliver's interest level rose as she ignored the jeans and shirt on the ground and instead strode directly to the kitchen. He didn't share her aversion to jeans, and followed a minute later.

"You're feeling cheerful." Oliver remarked, joining her in the kitchen.

"It's been a good last 10 hours." Sara laughed, finding a frying pan before plucking various things from the fridge, pausing to pour a glass of juice. "Dang. You don't keep a lot in stock, huh?"

"Not usually." Oliver said, her cheerfulness infecting him. "But I actually have a fryer for small omelets."

"Oh screw that, we'll have real omelets." Sara retorted in mock seriousness, tossing some cheese by the pan.

"You do know there's a huge window right there?" Oliver teased. "Someone in the next building might be getting quite an eyeful." She put a gallon of milk on the counter before coming over to kiss him, her lips tasting like orange juice.

"You could do with a scandal that would increase your popularity." She said.

"Oh, how's that?" He asked. She put a little olive oil on a pan, turned on the stove.

"Simple. Everyone respects a man who has a good looking woman." She laughed. He smiled.

"It almost feels strange." He remarked, looking around the kitchen, at her. She raised an eyebrow, managing to look dignified as she cooked, sans her clothes. "Feeling less like I need to hurry up and work on something or avoid something… and more just feeling like things are good."

"Always running to something." She nodded. "But if you're always running, you never can enjoy the now."

"Hey, the future won't take care of itself." Oliver said.

"Tomorrow can worry about itself." Sara said. "Every day has enough challenges already." She sprinkled some spices on the pan, and turned it over, waiting for it to turn the right color. She flipped it off the pan, onto a plate and slid it in front of him

"I'll wait until yours is done." Oliver said. She rolled her eyes.

"It's best hot! Besides, you can still sit with me when mine's finished." She cracked two more eggs, sprinkled some cheese and torn up pieces of deli meat. Oliver took a bite of the omelet, was impressed. It was better than a lot of diners he had eaten at.

"This is really good Sara." He said, trying to eat slowly, make it last. He hadn't been hungry when he woke up, but now his appetite was roaring back.

"Thanks." She flipped hers neatly to close it. "My dad taught me."

"He might not be glad you're with me." Oliver mused.

"I told him I wear Kevlar whenever I'm being risky." She said. "But maybe he'll be glad. He worries about me, wants to know I'll be okay. Did your parents ever give you those talks?"

"Sometimes." Oliver nodded. "They wanted to know I wouldn't end up alone, that I'd be happy." He took another bite, savoring it. Sara nodded, waiting for him to go on. "My father was afraid I'd make the same mistakes. He didn't spell it out, but I could see it when I looked back. My mother… my mother hoped I'd be a better man than him, and hoped I'd meet a better woman than her."

"No one's ever perfect." Sara remarked. "Someone could just as easily say the same about you or me."

"I know." Oliver said. "Different problems, at least."

"I second that." Sara said. "I had an idea… your nemesis with the bow, he looks like he could be league trained."

"Possibly, but bows have gotten popular around here." Oliver remarked. "And his targets related to a target from my father's book, one of the corrupt businessmen."

"True. He could have decided to be an evil doppelganger." Sara shrugged. She flipped her omelet on a plate, and walked over the bar, standing by the side as she ate, rubbed a hand on the patterns in the granite countertops. Oliver gave her a look again, as if eating breakfast naked was the most shocking thing he'd seen her do. "Personally I always like a Beretta 92 over a bow. But I'm hitting up my old league contacts. Asking if they've heard anything about operators in this area, exiles, people who went rogue…"

"Maybe we'll solve it that way." Oliver said. "You got weekend plans?"

"I was going to look at a few rentals." Sara said, waving her fork in the air. "See my dad again tomorrow."

"Just bring your luggage here." Oliver teased. "I won't charge you."

"You better not." She laughed, pausing a beat later. "Are you serious?"

"About inviting you here or not charging you?" Oliver deadpanned, scraping his fork on the plate for the last bits of egg and spices.

"Both." Sara said around a mouthful, Oliver smiling at the face she made.

"Yes." He said. "There's a spare room-" her mouth opened slightly like she wasn't believing what he was saying "—for your stuff. I'm not surrendering all my closets after how hard it was to organize them."

"I accept your terms." Sara said intently, the smile tugging at the corner of her lips before the joking left her face. She looked hopeful. "So from now on, you and me?" Oliver stood, pulled her against him, feeling her bare chest against his.

"Oliver and Sara, forever and always." He said, remembering what she had said when he found her again in the city, after the earthquake.

"Well, I wanted to make sure it wasn't heat of the moment." She said, raising up a on her toes a little to kiss him.

"Well, now it's official." Oliver said.

"Alright then." Sara grinned, as he cupped her face and kissed her again.

The doorbell rang, and Oliver groaned. Sara laughed a moment, then realized she was still lacking her cloths.

"Don't let them in!" She yelped, darting for the bedroom, almost wiping out on an accent rug Thea had put in the hall.

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I hope you enjoyed, and reading this put a smile on your face. Please review if you did—I read and appreciate each review. I think a few more chapters are due for this little story


	5. Movement

Chapter 5

"Movement"

" _In a grave of roses, while the night is closing in_ _  
_ _My soul is so cold, but I want to live again_ _  
_ _I know You'll come to me, I wait in misery  
I want to fight for this, save me from this darkness!"_ _-_ "I want to live!" Skillet.

* * *

"We could possibly track down this… Vigilantee." Sara shrugged, drumming her fingers on her laptop. The den, headquarters, was nicely empty for the moment. Sara wasn't sure if she felt safer underground or high up. "You said he had a full auto SCAR and an MP5k? It's a lead."

"If we had a whole team of researchers maybe." Oliver signed. "The visor seemed like it might have been a high tech upgrade. Easier to track. But compared to Prometheus…"

"I already asked a few league contacts if they know of anyone who might be operating in the state, or be out for your head." Sara shrugged. She glanced at the racks of submachine guns and assault rifles. "I'm a little amazed you've got an armory down here… you stopped using your bow as a melee weapon, I hope?"

"Ehh…" Oliver said, doing that thing with his hand.

"I will buy you a nice knife if I need to." Sara said, shaking her head. "I think whoever it is though… I think he knows you. It's hard for people to hold such fury against a faceless person… and the Green Arrow really hasn't done anything that horrible."

"Oh, and my past lives did?" Oliver remarked.

"You killed a lot people." Sara said evenly. She strolled over to a gun rack, removed a submachine gun, shouldering it. "Blowback happens."

"I did what needed to be done." Oliver said.

"Not bashing what you did. I'm pointing out—either this Prometheus is someone from your past, or a rogue from the League. I would think Malcolm could be behind it, but that's not his style." Sara idly played with the mechanism, checked the magazine, and was almost surprised to see it loaded. "He would be different. He likes cat's paws but not so much collateral." He had used Thea as a cat's paw before for his dirty work… something Sara remembered all too well.

"So while your league contacts work, we go through my past kills and find any with living relatives, between 21 and 45." Oliver said. The word "kills" had almost snagged on his tongue. It felt strange to say.

"We start with the wealthy targets, who had a value of a million or more." Sara agreed. "I really doubt some bodyguard's son decided to come after you."

"Felicity can start." Oliver sighed, texting a line to her. Sara looked thoughtful.

"The news calls him the throwing star killer. Have you examined any of the throwing stars? Are they hand made, commercial..?"

"We did. We believe he makes them from my arrowheads." Oliver said. Sara sat upright.

"Are you serious?" She asked, stunned. Oliver nodded. "What if he's a cop? Or someone with the local police department?"

"Hardly the only place to get my arrows." Oliver said, shrugging.

"How else? Ebay?" She demanded, clicking open and searching "vigilante arrows." A variety of items popped up. None were even close to being legitimate. "You're sure they are actually your arrows?" She locked the laptop and yanked her phone out.

"Felicity was pretty positive, and I believe her." Oliver said, getting up and grabbing his jacket, heading for the door. Sara was right behind him, speed dialing a number on her phone. "Dad, it's me. We need to find every arrow from the Hood, the Arrow, and the Green Arrow, and find if they are still in police evidence." Sara said. "Watch your back. Prometheus might be a cop, or someone in a position dealing closely with the cops. Or he hired someone to steal the Hood's arrows for him." The elevator hummed upwards. The doors opened, and they ran towards the exit, only for Oliver to hesitate.

"What if he anticipated this?" Oliver asked. "Part of his plan?"

"Then he's already got some alert if we check the evidence and look for the arrows." Sara said. "We need to know. There's got to be footage or evidence on who stole them if they're gone. And some of it's on a computer, but Felicity can't exactly hack log books or check boxes."

"I'll drive." Oliver said. "Text the rest of the team. Tell them to watch their backs." Sara checked the glove box of the car, removed the Springfield XD Subcompact 9mm, racked the slide, before pulling out her phone again.

* * *

"They're all gone." Quentin Lance said, glancing around the small warehouse again, making sure it was empty. He had sent the desk officer outside. "We checked the logs, found the evidence boxes. The arrowheads have been removed. We started at the oldest cases and every one is missing."

"Cameras?" Oliver asked. Quentin nodded. "There's several cameras. If they were functioning, they saw who did it. But some of them had been there for years since last examined. So anyone over the last two years could have logged they were getting some other evidence, and gotten the arrowheads." Quentin sighed.

"Still… it at least means that Prometheus is likely a cop, or related to it." Sara said, trying to think.

"I really doubt a cop." Quentin said, shaking his head.

"Why?" Oliver asked. Quentin shrugged.

"Haven't you learned anything from dealing with me and the SCPD?" Quentin asked. Oliver groaned.

"Spare me the mystery and cut to the point." He said.

"The way Prometheus is coming at you, is not how a cop would do it." Quentin said. "Cop clichés exist for a reason. Whoever this is, is grandiose, brutal, patient. You really see some cop slaughtering a police escort to get to church? Killing random civilians just to taunt you? A cop would start killing everyone around you, and then he'd kill you. Whoever this is, isn't a cop. He'd be too arrogant to answer to me and you like that. And cops are not the most free people around… he'd want something more independent."

"Who else could get in here at will?" Sara mused. "I really doubt he's custodial or a building engineer."

"The District Attorney's office would be able to come and go at ease." Oliver said quietly. "And someone close enough to keep constant tabs on me in City Hall…" He sent another text.

"Anyone in mind in particular?" Quentin asked.

"Someone I saw get shot, who handled it like a soldier." Oliver said tersely.


	6. What Was and Could Have Been

I know, it has been an atrociously long amount of time. I've been having a challenging year, and I am yet to master self discipline. Many thanks to my readers. I see and appreciate every review, favorite, and subscription. Special shout out to **Arrowman** , Aryan229, Tony4, NeoTyson, Phillipe363, and Santoro613.

* * *

Chapter 6-"What Was."

* * *

"Confirmed." Oliver said, putting his phone down on the countertop. "Fake background. Well made, but definitely fake. We've got our Prometheus." His Henley was unbuttoned all the way down, as if he was trying to shed a little of the day's stress.

"Do we have enough proof to publicly vindicate the killing?" Sara asked. "Or do we want to? You're mayor. It'd be pretty bad if your own DA was assassinated, but if your own DA was a mass murderer…" She drummed her fingers, pondering. "The media would blame you."

"Or, if we take him in and put him on trial…" Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. "Let justice be done publicly."

"Assuming we could capture him and had enough evidence." Sara said evenly, with that tone that said _I'm really impatient but hoping I'm not showing it_.

"It's the right thing to do." Oliver said firmly. Sara shrugged, walked over to a plush leather recliner by the fireplace. Oliver raised an eyebrow. "You've got that look."

"I used to feel so guilty about kills. All of them." Sara said. "Now, just some."

"Why's that?" Oliver asked.

"I spent some time in Gotham… learned about their vigilante." Sara said. She idly rubbed the arm of the sofa, feeling the soft leather. The warm colors of the sofa went well with the condo. It felt like a home, like a place where some of the harshness of life faded away, became a bit softer and more caring.

"Did you meet him?" Oliver questioned. Sara shook her head.

"I met some cops, talked to people about him. You know, for several years, he would never kill. He would injure people, maim criminals, but he would never kill. And then the consequences hit home. Criminal called joker." Sara said, looking at the empty fireplace, at the beauty of the little home. She had been told that Thea had almost died in front of that fireplace.

"I studied him a bit… deranged serial killer. Dresses like a clown." Oliver nodded.

"Well, the Gotham police chief, guy named Gordon, he said the vigilante had an accomplice, a young guy. Kind of like you and Roy, but he used a sort of pike/staff weapon. Supposedly quite an acrobat. And then, there was a bad crime scene, set up like a bloody circus, probably the Joker." Sara shrugged, made a pained face. "The vigilante vanished for weeks, and Gordon never saw the accomplice again."

"And then?" Oliver prodded.

"The vigilante killed without hesitation." Sara said simply. "Most of the deaths were massive trauma. Criminals would be thrown into walls so hard their skulls were cracked, or struck so hard their ribs broke and their hearts stopped. Like that. The vigilante started using some sort of armored rapid assault vehicle, mounted with 7.62mm machine guns. There's a few utterly shredded vehicles in the evidence lockups, amazing damage."

"Loss is hard." Oliver nodded. "It's brutal."

"And it's brutal when you're hurt by your own policy." Sara said, bringing her point home. "The cop told me about how the Joker had ramped up quite a body county, and the vigilante refused to kill. How many innocents died so he could feel noble? And then, it came back to bite him. He lost his brother, just like all those people who died so he could keep blood off his hands."

"You're saying like how I lost Laurel." Oliver said quietly.

"Yes." Sara's voice was barely audible. "When you go out and fight the bad guys and walk away without bloody hands, it feels noble. They keep killing whoever, but you're fighting to stop it, the right way. Then you find out what those casualties feel like because you didn't put the bad guy down when you could have. You find out how those families felt when their daughter was murdered, when their son was murdered, when their father or mother's corpse was found somewhere"

"It… it haunts me." Oliver admitted. "That I could have stopped him. I could have saved her." He didn't say the names. Didn't need to. "That if I just made the right choice, this all could be different."

"Maybe it could have been." Sara said truthfully. "Maybe I could have come home sooner, risked it. Maybe you could have gone home sooner. Or neither of us got on that boat, or, or… " She shook her head, got up, sat next to Oliver. "Life's a city full of mist, and we can only see a little ahead. We make our choices, we live with them, and we move forward." She kissed him softly, felt a small tear roll down the side of her face. She pushed a little, and he let her, until he was on his back on the sofa and she was laying on top of him, her hair falling like a curtain around their faces.

"Sara... I want you to know, I am so sorry, for everything." Oliver said, his voice a whisper.

"I forgive you, for everything." Sara said, her voice as if someone might have overheard them. "Will you forgive me, for leaving, when I should have been here?"

"Yes." Oliver said, kissing her.

* * *

"Is this where you ask me to join you… just one last adventure?" Thea asked, putting a dramatic flair on the latter half, and adopting an English accent for some reason.

"No." Oliver shook his head slowly. "I think you've fought long and hard enough. You deserve a life." A look flashed across her face. Disappointment, maybe. Relief?

"So you're handling this alone?" Thea asked. "How?"

"Not alone… Sara and I will handle Adrian. And then we're done." Oliver said, swirling his drink in his cup a bit.

"Really." Thea said, a little sarcastically. "Done. Just like that."

"We've spent enough time as soldiers." He took a sip of his drink. "Enough time binding wounds and wondering when someone will get lucky on us. We already have a tracer on his car… his patterns are being logged."

"Trying to find the best place?" Thea asked. Oliver nodded.

"It's risky… all around." Oliver said. "Take him outside City Hall and there's more escape routes… take him in the residential area and infiltration and exfil is harder."

"Did you think about just giving the proof to the police?" Thea remarked.

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it." Oliver said, avoiding a real answer. "I didn't really come here to talk about that."

"What did you come here to talk about?" Thea sighed.

"Thought I'd come see you and spend a little time with you." Oliver said, smiling a little. "Do I need a reason better than that?" She paused a little bit, and something broke in her face.

"You don't know if you can take him." She said, stepping back, shaking her head. "You came to see me in case he killed you."

"That possibility has crossed my mind." Oliver admitted. "It could happen."

"Give the information to the cops. Let them handle it." Thea urged. "It's their jobs, what they do."

"Thea, he might have enough evidence to implicate me… and he might implicate you. Sara. Quentin. You all could be charged as co-conspirators to mass murder." Oliver said, a little bitterly. "We can't go to the cops. We can't let him testify or have a lawyer. Or this will never end. We'll be fleeing to Moldova or Ukraine or Russia. Sara and I will handle this—but you have to leave the country for a little while. There's a gorgeous resort in Moscow I checked out."

"We wait in Moscow while you _maybe get killed?_ " Thea demanded, fury rising in her voice. "I can fight too. I can help end this."

"You can't fight on this level." Oliver shook his head. "I'm not risking your life like this."

"It's not your decision to make." Thea snapped.

"Yes it is." Oliver said. "We're the last of the Queens. If Adrian isn't stopped, he'll end me and he'll kill you to spite me. But I'm not risking that. If I fail, or if Adrian has some sort of dead man's trigger on evidence, I'm not letting it end. I could go down. But you're not coming with me. You're going to have a life, and you're not letting our name die with us."

"You sound like this is going to happen." Thea said. "Like the worst things are already set. And we can't stop it."

"I'm going to stop it." Oliver said firmly. His eyes met hers. "Thea, I'm going to stop him, and I'm going to set things right. We're going to be okay, all of us."


	7. Preparation

Chapter 7- _Preparation._

* * *

"I asked you all here today to tell you, I don't intend to continue this." Oliver said.

"You're firing us?" Curtis demanded, eyebrows raised. Oliver shook his head.

"You're all aware of the masked killer, Prometheus… I've been able to confirm who he is, under the mask." Oliver said. "His skill level… I cannot in good conscious take any of you with me to confront him."

"Why not?" Evelyn asked. "I faced him on that subway car. I even managed to get a cut in, and I'm hardly the best with a sword."

"As I recall, the only reason you survived was he didn't go for the killing blow." Oliver said sharply. "I don't want to risk your life like this. Any of your lives."

"So what's this then?" Jack Wheeler, Wild Dog, demanded. "You're going against him solo?"

"No. It will be two on one when it comes to it." Oliver said. "And then I'm retiring from this. For a while, at least. Hopefully forever. You all will have to make your own paths."

"So, is this a secret you might take to your grave, or will you tell us who Prometheus us?" Evelyn asked wryly.

"Prometheus is Adrian Chase, District Attorney." Oliver said. He reached for the manila folder on the table, took a full size picture out. "If I don't survive taking him down… I'm counting on you guys to make sure his secret is revealed." He took out a handful of flash drives, handed one to Evelyn, one to Jack Wheeler, one to Curtis. "These drives contain everything we could find about him, as much incriminating evidence as we could get. Not a lot, but it's all we obtained. It's enough to have him charged with a few crimes. We don't have proof for murder charges though."

"A flash drive? No parting gifts of bows or money?" Jack sighed. "Do we get to divvy up your assault rifles if you die?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, and he laughed. "Just kidding you, man. I'm sure you'll knock him dead."

"Are you going to kill him?" Evelyn asked. There was a moment of silence.

"We've been unable to get evidence for murder charges." Oliver said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Better question is, do you think the police could hold him? We believe he has figured out I am the Arrow. Meaning it's also likely he's figured out who you three are. If he talks to the police, we could all be sharing the same trial."

"So murder him to keep him quiet, huh?" Evelyn sniped.

"That, and the fact he's killed a lot of cops and a fair amount of innocent civilians." Jack retorted. He turned to look at the girl. "And there's a small matter of you attacking a city event and killing security staff before holding a gun on the then-mayor. That's a life sentence right there if dear Adrian decides to go public."

"I and my partner intend to take him down within the next few days." Oliver said, ignoring the spat. "Until you read about it in the papers, I suggest you all stay sharp and lay low, just in case. You may want to leave town for a while."

"How are you going to do it?" Evelyn questioned. Oliver shrugged.

"We're still making the plan. Obviously getting him outside city hall or the courthouse is appealing."

"When he won't be armed, because he has to go through security." Evelyn said.

"Right." Oliver nodded. "Obvious downside is all the police and guards that will come running at a moment's notice. No place really is ideal. His home is a possible target, but he's doubtless prepared, stashed weapons, maybe cameras, etc. Not to mention, easier for us to make the exfil from a city center. Many spots, places to lie low. "

"We could run a diversion." Jack offered. "Go start a bigger fire, suck away the oxygen from City Hall before you make a move."

"Possibly." Oliver shrugged. "That would draw away local units. Security would still be intact at City Hall, though, and it's a common ploy. It might just put him on alert."

"We should help you plan it out." Evelyn said. "Make it the best plan possible."

"That won't be needed." Oliver said. "I appreciate your skills, but between myself and my comrade, we have more than enough experience in extreme situations like this."

" _That won't be needed._ " Jack repeated in a light, mocking tone. "Okay, boss. So give it a few days and see what happens, eh?"

"Yeah, basically. And rest assured, if I go down, or my places and computers are raided, none of you will be incriminated by anything found. The den here is going to be wiped and sterilized of fibers, prints, dna. No recordings or any mentions of your names or mentions of accomplices." Oliver said formally. He gave Curtis a look when the man touched a small railing. "And keep in mind everyone, touch DNA is a thing now. You touch it with your bare skin, you're leaving DNA samples. Shell casings, arrows, knives…"

"Not always admissible in court yet though." Curtis offered.

"Willing to bet your freedom on that?" Oliver sighed, shook his head. There was a moment of silence before he looked up, looking at them each once. "Team, you're dismissed. Good luck to you all."


	8. Reaction

" _Always be the predator, never the prey!"_ -Paul 'The Machine' Janson, Con Ops.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked. She was adjusting a Kevlar vest snugly around her torso.

"I don't know." Oliver said slowly. He couldn't place exactly what was eating him. "You know that sense that you missed something?"

"Do you think we're burned?" Sara questioned, checking a Springfield XD. The bunker was empty. The team was gone, left for safer places, respecting their wishes. The gear was still there-Sara didn't know whether to be impressed or appalled at whoever was stupid enough to buy the MP5 submachine guns on the racks. Those were a minimum 10 years in prison each, if the wrong people found the place.

"How exactly has he been one step ahead of me so well." Oliver wondered. It wasn't a question. "I've been careful about tails since I started this. We sweep for bugs here daily, run jamming devices… He's not a psychologist. He's smart, but not omniscient. He could hire people to track me, but I've been paranoid about that since I came back…"

"He knew who you were. Bugs in your office at city hall." Sara guessed.

"What if we're walking into something?" Oliver said.

"Maybe we are… but we don't really have a choice, do we? We're running down a steep hill. We're past the point of trying to stop." Sara said. "The longer we hesitate, the greater the danger."

"The deep breath, I know." Oliver said. He had his equipment packed in a bag. They had mapped out their routes, checked for cameras that could spot them, examined their Kevlar vests. Oliver pulled the slide back slightly on his backup, an H&K USP .40 with a bright green laser attachment. He didn't really like handguns. Didn't mean he couldn't use one well.

"You know, I read your ex escaped from prison. Helena." Sara remarked. Oliver was a little impressed that she said it without malice.

"How'd she pull it off?" Oliver asked.

"Article said the prison authorities refused to say. But she vanished, still on the run after two weeks. Probably gone for good." Sara said.

"Good for her." Oliver mused. "Hopefully the papers aren't saying the same about us anytime soon."

* * *

The old campaign headquarters were poorly lit, and the parking lot was nearly pitch black as well, one lonely light doing its best to illuminate the area, but failing badly. Oliver hit the beeper and the black mustang's lights came on, like a ghost becoming visible. Their footfalls were quiet on the pavement, Oliver heading for the trunk just ahead of Sara. He slipped the key into the lock and then—

"DON'T MOVE DON'T MOVE FBI!" Oliver flinched, raising his hands, blinding strobe lights catching him off guard. "SARA LANCE! DO NOT MOVE OR WE WILL SHOOT YOU!"

"What is this?!" Oliver demanded. The light moved away from his face, and now he could make out 'FBI' on their jackets, blinking rapidly to try to make the bright spots fade.

"DO NOT MOVE!" One agent shouted at him.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES!" An agent with a rifle aimed at Sara was shouting. She looked at Oliver pleadingly. They hadn't anticipated this. They didn't know what the FBI might have, or how Adrian could have caused it, or if these were even real FBI agents or just clever cartel operatives. Sara slowly lowered herself to her knees, keeping her hands high.

"KEEP YOUR HANDS HIGH!" The agent with the rifle yelled. "NOW CRAWL TOWARDS ME! DO NOT LOWER YOUR HANDS OR YOU WILL BE SHOT!" The agent with the rifle on Sara was maybe fifteen feet from Sara, with another agent standing by him. The third agent had started walking towards Oliver, his glock raised. Oliver could see what he was about to do, visualize it, the sequence. To not was unthinkable. He wasn't about to watch Sara bleed out on the pavement. He couldn't. He _wouldn't_. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through him, giving him strength.

Oliver smoothly lunged forwards at the agent, sidestepping away from the gun and grabbing it with both hands, jerking the glock the wrong way in the agent's hand, breaking fingers, before ripping it out of the agent's hand and then grabbing and spinning the man around just as a heavy burst of rifle fire tore into the agent's chest. The rifleman froze in shock, just as Sara's baton collided with his temple, sending him crashing to the ground. The third agent hesitated, unsure of which target to fire on, and Oliver shot her twice in the center chest, her Kevlar vest easily stopping the handgun rounds. She fell, gasping, and Sara kicked her Glock away, then frisked her, coming up with a badge and ID.

"Agent Samandra Watson of the FBI." Sara read. "Who sent you?"

"You've just made a huge mistake!" Watson gasped, holding her chest. "Murder of a federal officer…"

"Maybe your friend shouldn't have shot him then." Oliver said angrily, checking the pulse of his human shield. The rifle rounds had cut through his chest armor easily, but didn't have enough power to exit the back of the man. "Why are you here?"

"To arrest Sara Lance for multiple homicides!" Watson said furiously. "You're both going to be facing death row for this!"

"Where's your backup?" Sara demanded, crouched, looking around, anticipating more forces. She frisked the dead agent, not finding anything. "How many of you are there?" They probably had minutes at most before police arrived.

"Where's the other team?!" Oliver roared. Watson shook her head.

"You don't have backup." Sara realized slowly. "You three are here alone. Did you even secure a warrant?"

"No, she didn't." A garbled voice said behind them. All three turned to look. The figure walking idly towards them was clad in black and almost invisible in the night, but the two could make out the visored mask covering his face, and suppressed 9mm Glock in his hand. Oliver's fists clenched, and he almost took a shot at the man—but Vigilante was aiming and Oliver's weapon was on Samandra. The killer wisely kept his distance, staying too far to disarm.

"You here to kill me?"

"No." Vigilante said flatly. "I came because of them. They were sent information that she was a former assassin… from there, it was such an _interesting_ research project. She was the Canary, wasn't she? And you were… _are…_ the Arrow. Or Green Arrow, or whatever you call yourself now."

"All three pyschos in one place, working together." Watson said bitterly. "Team of the year." Vigilante casually raised his handgun, and with practiced ease fired one round into Waton's forehead and another into the rifleman Sara had knocked out.

"They were federal agents!" Oliver yelled.

"Yes. And you should thank God she went off on a glory project with two friends, instead of proper channels." Vigilante snapped. He carefully stepped a few paces to the right, crouching to retrieve the shell casings. "If you hadn't gone for the disarm, your girl here would be dead. And if Watson _ever_ spoke to her superiors, you two would be on death row, assuming they didn't kill you on sight. You realize that they would charge you with your shield's death a few moments ago? She wasn't lying, you fool!"

"Why are you here?" Sara asked. Vigilante regarded her coldly.

"We might disagree on things. But we can all agree… the _other_ archer needs to die." Vigilante said. "He's not just going after scum. He's a rabid dog that attacks anything. Dirty cops, good cops, random victims…" He looked at Oliver. "I already went up against him once… he's formidable. You've fought him, you fight like him. Together… the chances of success goes up. A one time alliance."

"He's a rabid dog? And what are you?" Sara said. She held the baton loosely but firmly. Oliver knew she could draw her sidearm fast, but not before Vigilante shifted his sidearm the few needed inches. "You just murdered two of the good guys."

"Do you think she would have felt any guilt standing over your corpse as your bow loving boyfriend was shoved in an unmarked car?" Vigilante laughed. He mimicked a pose of someone speaking formally. " 'The vigilante known as the Green Arrow has been arrested and is facing the death penalty. Unfortunately officer safety was threatened and his accomplice, Sara Lance died on the scene. An internal review will be performed and in two weeks we will declare the shooting was justified.' " He shook his head. "I just saved your lives. Because neither of you would have had the stomach to do what needed to be done."

"We're willing to work with you. Adrian Chase in the DA's office is Prometheus, the throwing star killer." Oliver said rapidly, before Sara spoke. "We already packed our gear and we're going after him tonight. Lethal force only."

"Color me surprised." Vigilante said. "Maybe you two do have spines."

"And them?" Sara said, looking at the corpses.

"They have a vehicle nearby, a Honda minivan." Vigilante said. He holstered his weapon. "Watson probably has the key. Don't approach the vehicle… might have a camera in it." He strode past the two, checked through Waton's pockets and found it.

"You two head out of here. Turn right out of the parking lot, not left. I'll take care of the bodies—the vehicle might be lowjacked, so I'll have to drive around before dumping it. A few bullets in the windshield and windows will throw the investigators off… but they'll know they were moved posthumously."

"Meet us at 700 Park Regency." Oliver said. "Sara… let's go."


	9. Not Good to Be Alone

"You can do the math a thousand ways, but you can't erase the facts

That others come, and others go, but you always come back."

-' _I'm Not Dead', Pink._

* * *

 _Sara's ribs ached, sharp pains with each breath. She reached a hand up under her vest, tried to feel for blood. It felt like the vest had stopped the rounds. She hoped._

 _"The League is not without mercy." Talia said calmly, a long blade in her hand. "I am willing to spare you, Ta-er al-Usfar. Pledge your loyalty to me. Serve me, and you can reclaim your honor at my side. Or die here, a traitor."_

 _"Oliver will avenge me." Sara managed. The searing pain in her head was starting to subside. "You can kill me. But he will follow you to the end of the earth. And he'll make you suffer."_

 _"Like he did after Malcolm Merlyn ended your life?" Talia asked icily. "He gave the Malcolm the League, after he slew you. And now you expect me to fear his vengeance?"_

* * *

Earlier than night…

"This is a risky assault for you." Vigilante remarked, watching as Oliver adjusted the leather jacket over his body armor. "Why not the usual outfit? Why do this in such a public place"

"The mob would go for a public hit, and it would be harder for mobsters to get his home address." Oliver said, his face obscured by a ballistic face mask. He could get shot in the face with a submachine gun and it would stop the rounds, as long as they didn't go through his eye. "This isn't going to be easy."

"Especially not with a death wish like this." Vigilante said. He hefted a sniper rifle. "You realize there's very little angle from here… if you screw this up, I won't be able to do much. Or are you hoping I won't be able to shoot you once Adrian is dead?"

"Can you blame me?" Oliver remarked. "I'll radio you when it's done, and we all exfiltrate quietly." He gave the zip line a tug. It seemed pretty secure.

"As long as he's dead when this is over." Vigilante said. Oliver nodded, walked over to Sara. She had a zip line harness around her torso, same as Oliver. She still carried her beloved extendable staff, but she had a suppressed TMP submachine gun and a sidearm.

"He's probably going to try to kill us the moment after." Sara said quietly, her voice barely audible.

"Possible. But Adrian has been ahead of us so far. We might need his help, and he might be too distracted to go after us." Oliver said quietly. "Your armor snug?" Sara nodded. Oliver wanted to kiss her, but they were in a public place, and he didn't dare take the mask off. Adrian would die a martyr if they succeeded, and the city would be rocked by the idea of a public official being assassinated right outside City Hall.

But Prometheus would be dead. And hopefully no one would know he had been a public official.

"After this… we're done with it all?" Sara asked. Oliver nodded.

"We'll be free of it all." He said. "I promise."

* * *

It felt like forever, waiting, hiding, checking the cameras via his phone—and then he appeared, strolling through the skywalk to the parking deck, confident, at ease, alone. Oliver readied the HK USP, clicked the hammer back, put the phone away, counted to ten. He could hear the wingtip shoes tapping against the concrete, getting closer to Adrian's car. Oliver smoothly stepped out of the alcove, raised the weapon, gratified at the look of surprise on Adrian's face, and fired two rounds into the center of his chest, the suppressed weapon giving a sharp _snap_ but far more quietly than a regular weapon.

The bullets impacted, and Adrian spun, half falling, but turning his fall into a roll, even as he reached into his overcoat and threw something to the ground, bringing smoke up as if summoned from hell.

"Well, you finally had the guts to just go for the kill." A rough laugh sounded from inside the cloud. "What are these? 9mm? 45? Should have loaded them for armor piercing!" Oliver moved toward cover, the weapon raised, his other hand clicking his headset.

"He's wearing armor, target is not down." He whispered.

"Moving to assist." Sara said. She was on the floor below, in case Adrian somehow slipped past Oliver. "Taking the ramp up."

"Kill him quickly and get out of there!" Vigilante snapped.

"Oh, you didn't come alone, did you Olly?" Adrian taunted. "Finally figure out how I've stayed so far ahead of you? Though honestly, I thought you'd go for the dramatic 'you have failed this city!' "

Oliver didn't respond. He wouldn't risk his voice being picked up on any recording device.

"You have hostiles incoming!" Vigilante warned in the headset, just before an bullet hit Oliver in the face, bouncing off the cheek of his armored mask, jerking his head back. He staggered a little, but managed to go for cover, barely seeing several dark figures who had joined Adrian.

"It's the league!" Oliver said. Panic shot through him. They were too split up for this.

"Yes indeed." A voice called mockingly. "The League you both betrayed." He recognized it. Talia Al Ghoul.

"Why are **you** here Talia!?"

"You killed my father and she betrayed her vows." Talia said offhandedly. "Why would I not come, when offered this chance for justice?" Oliver plucked a flash grenade from his belt, yanked the pin, tossed it, turning away. It exploded like the sun. Oliver moved, cursing that the parking deck was so empty—cars would have provided concealment.

"Moving to east side of parking deck, level 4!" Oliver said into his radio. "Canary, get out now!" He rounded the corner, ducking into cover, turning to fire from protection. Four shapes scrambled for cover as he opened fire. There was an explosion, then the sound of metal ripping into concrete as an anchor tore into a wall near him. Vigilante was sliding down the zip line, a suppressed SCAR assault rifle across his chest. The man hit the ground almost running and raised the weapon, firing rapidly.

"Move up!" Vigilante yelled.

* * *

Sara was moving rapidly up the ramp, weapon raised, trying to move as quickly as she could—and something hit her solidly in the chest, knocking her back, before an explosion ripped through the air in front of her, sending her backwards. She tried to take a breath, felt a searing pain in her chest. It didn't feel like anything had punched through. Hopefully. A familiar shape strode idly towards her, and she felt her hope fading. _All this way to die in a damn parking garage?_

* * *

Oliver was focusing as he moved, breathing long and deeply, raising the weapon, aiming, firing, moving from one target to another. The slide on his weapon locked back and he smoothly pressed the release and flicked his wrist, sending the empty magazine skittering away as he grabbed a fresh one. The four that had chased him were down. Vigilante stepped past him, strode closer to the downed assassins, and coldly fired two rounds into each of their heads.

"Well well, everyone loves making friends these days." Prometheus remarked icily. Oliver and Vigilante spun, firing before their sights were even on target. He was already behind concrete

"Olly, I'm really wondering why you so easily forgot about Talia." He taunted. "And where exactly did your little bird fly off to? She never returned to your arm, did she?"

Fear lanced through Oliver's chest. "Canary, where the hell are you?!" He demanded into his headset. Another signal weakly clicked on, a quieter voice coming from farther away than the wearer.

" _… willing to spare you, Ta-er al-Usfar._ " An Arabic voice said. " _Pledge your loyalty to me."_

"Funny how life gives us these beautiful little moments, isn't it, Oliver?" Adrian laughed. Vigilante squeezed the trigger and a long burst of heavy rounds tore into the concrete, blasting chunks away.

"Nice try, Vigilante! Too thick though." Adrian mocked. "You two **are** more than I can handle. But is Oliver willing to retrieve a blonde corpse to make sure it is two on one here?"

"Stairwell down. We get her back." Oliver whispered, pointing. It was risky, but too long to take the ramps down. Vigilante gave him a look for a moment, and Oliver could almost feel cold rage from behind the visor.

"Good luck." The man said, advancing on Adrian.

Oliver ran for the stairs.


End file.
